A2Z
by QueenWillie
Summary: A short/drabble on a character for every letter of the alphabet. Centered around Wilhelmina Slater. DISCLAIMER: DO NOT OWN ANYTHING OR ANYONE XD
1. Amanda

A - Amanda

The girl never knew this, but other than the doctors, she had been the first person to hold her. She had been called to the hospital a little over an hour after Fey had given birth. When she entered the private room Fey was staring at the wall as the infant lay kicking its little legs; mewling.

'She's been pretty much non-responsive since the birth. The only time she's spoken was to ask for you.'

Wanda nodded and walked to her boss's bedside. 'Fey?'

Fey dragged her eyes up to meet her assistants. 'They told me it's a girl.' She whispered.

She looked over to the cot. 'Good news is it doesn't look like she got your original nose.' Wanda joked, trying to lift the weight in the room.

Fey reached up to the small unit beside her and grabbed a scrap of paper. 'Call this number. Tell them...tell them their daughter is ready to come home.'

Later that night, Wanda stood in the hospital nursery in front of a couple who were staring desperately at the child in her arms.

'She must never know.'

The awe struck woman before her nodded vigorously. 'I promise.'

She looked down at the wriggling mass in her arms and felt a rush of affection to the small creature. She may not be the most maternal of people, but she could never imagine handing over a child of her own. She ran the back of her finger over the downy hair atop the child's head before placing her in her new father's waiting arms. The little girl cryied at been ripped from the comfort of the embrace.

The couple smiled, teary eyed, as they happily counted the fingers and toes on their daughter. 'I know it will never be enough...but please tell her thank you, she has no idea...'

Wanda nodded. 'Fey has set up a fund for her, there is more than enough money to support her and give her the kind of life Fey wants her to have.'

The woman shook her head, 'Oh we didn't expect that, we don't...'

The young woman held up her hand. 'Fey wants her to have it.'

They both smiled at her before returning there gaze to the newborn, in awe of the child they never thought they could have. With one last glance at the assistant, the smiled, attempting to convey the depth of their gratitude and turned slowly, preparing to begin their new life as parents.

'One more thing.'

They stopped and turned to her.

'Her name is Amanda.'

Years later, she felt the young woman's desperation as she stood across from her. She made a vow to herself that she would do all she could to help her find her father. She would tell her everything she could remember from that night.

But she would never tell her she had been the first to hold her.


	2. Bradford

B – Bradford

She heaved him off her with a disgusted grunt, the older man asleep on top of her, and got out of the bed. Slipping on a robe, she made her way to the bathroom. Once inside she turned on the shower, her hand under the water, testing the temperature of the spray. Once it felt scalding to her touch and was more than uncomfortable on her skin, she climbed inside. Letting the blistering torrent rain down upon her body, she closed her eyes tight.

Every night, every time she fell asleep next to her fiancé, she performed this ritual. It was the one time she would admit that what she was doing disgusted her. She knew she was basically whoring herself, and for what? A magazine? Yes she could rationalise it in her head but at the end of the day she was on her back, legs in the air, and she sure as hell wasn't in love with him. She wouldn't have even looked twice at Bradford if he couldn't supply her with the power she craved.

She felt the water searing her, almost feeling as if it was dragging the top layer of her skin away with the stream. She needed it, it was cleansing, it was cliché, but it was symbolic of her washing her sins away. She could allow herself to feel ashamed and miserable as she repented in the confines of the shower, knowing that as soon as she stepped out she would start the vicious circle all over again. Would this be the rest of her life? Even if she did successfully marry Bradford and gain what she believed to be hers, would she have to remain married to him forever? She knew if she tried to divorce him, he would make sure she got nothing.

She turned off the water and looked down, watching the last of her sins, swirl down the plughole. Stepping out, she redressed in the robe and came to stand in front of the mirror. Feeling nauseous, as she did every night at the fact, that mere months earlier, Claire would have stood in the same place; completing her bedtime ritual, calling out to her husband in the bed she now shared with him.

Staring at the reflection, she didn't recognise the woman staring back at her, couldn't distinguish the girl she had been. She straightened, fixing herself with a steady glare in the mirror. Ok, she may not be with Bradford for the most honourable of reasons, but she was making him happy wasn't she? This had also become part of her ritual, convincing the woman in the mirror that her actions were justified. So what if she was making him believe she loved him while she carried on with Dwayne behind his back, was it any worse than what he did to Claire? No, in fact what he did was worse, he had a full blown love affair, he cheated relentlessly on the mother of his children. He deserved what she was doing to him...he did. She told herself this repeatedly.

'Willie?' She heard a sleepy voice call from the bedroom.

Setting her shoulders, smirking at her reflection, she saw the old glint come back to her eye. 'Coming darling.'


	3. Claire

C - Claire

'When I said we were good now...I didn't mean this.' Willie moaned.

'Shut up Wilhelmina.' Claire snapped.

'See, you don't want to be here anymore than I do.' She huffed.

Claire sighed wearily. 'I need to come to terms with the fact that you really aren't going anywhere and after what you did for Tyler...we should try to bury the hatchet.'

Wilhelmina opened her mouth to reply but Claire spoke over her, stopping her. 'The _metaphorical_ hatchet.' She drawled, not looking at her. 'Now, order.'

Wilhelmina snatched up the menu in front of her and scanned it, not really taking in the words printed upon it and then slammed it down again.

'Why are we doing this? I mean we're never going to like each other.'

'I wouldn't say that.'

Wilhelmina laughed. 'Claire darling, we've been at loggerheads for years. I snatched you husband, got your girly man child thrown in jail, tried to usurp your son at every available opportunity, got your youngest son so hooked on booze he tried to kill you and I'm seeing the man who very nearly ruined you.'

'I'm more than aware of what you've done Willie.'

Willie shrugged. 'So again I ask, why are we doing this?'

Claire sighed and methodically placed her menu down. 'Bradford is gone, Alexis is in Paris, Daniel is in London, as much as it pains me to say...you're the only link I have to the past. Seeing you still in the office reminds me of how it used to be.'

'I thought Daniel was coming home?'

Claire shook her head, 'He's going to stay with Alexis and DJ for a while.'

'What happened to London?'

'Things didn't work out as I had foreseen, I was wrong.'

'About?'

Claire shook her head. 'Doesn't matter. The point is, I don't know when or if he will ever come back.'

'As long as he knows that the job is mine now...right? I'm not sharing again.'

Claire laughed. 'He knows. So can we please order now and have a civilised meal?'

Willie rolled her eyes and picked up the menu again. 'I think I preferred it when you were hurling insults at me.'

'Oh I still will.'

'Promise?'

Claire laughed again and nodded. 'Good, all this forced camaraderie is giving me hives.' Willie informed her as she buried her head in the menu. 'We'll never be friends you know.' She stated.

Claire nodded, 'But we're not quite enemies anymore are we?'

'I suppose not...oh God, what is that ridiculous term Marc and that scatter brained blonde girl are always throwing about...Frenemies?'

Claire laughed and Willie looked up to see her holding her glass out towards her. 'To frenemies.'

Willie unsuccessfully tried to hide a smirk, she lifted her own glass and brought it to Claire's, over the table. 'To frenemies...now wipe the goofy look off your face before people think we like each other.'

'You really are the most intolerable bitch you know.' Claire studied the menu, not looking at her.

Willie mirrored her actions. 'I do, and you're a contemptible picked shrew.'

Not quite friends, and not quite enemies, the two women met eyes over the menus they held and smiled, knowing they would never change.

And they were perfectly happy with that.


	4. Daniel

D – Daniel

'Asshole.' Daniel heard the muttered curse behind him and turned, seeing Wilhelmina descend the stone steps.

'Are you just going to use that as my name now?' He asked her.

She stopped and looked at him. 'Oh, I thought you would have jumped in a cab by now.'

He shrugged, 'It was a nice night, thought I'd walk. So...you said something about an asshole?'

She shook her head. 'Never mind.' She started walking.

'Your buddy?'

She stopped walking and spun around. 'He's married! And his wife is home...oh but if I give him fifteen minutes he'll take me to a hotel for a quickie...asshole!' She started walking again. He chuckled and caught up with her.

'Frustrated huh?'

'Shut up Daniel, you're one step away from me jumping you.'

'What step?'

'Very funny.'

'Who's joking?'

She stopped walking. 'Daniel I'm really not in the mood for your games.'

He faced her, hands in pockets. 'I'm not the one who plays games, that's your forte.'

She rolled her eyes, pulling her yellow coat tight around her. 'Whatever, even if you are serious, I'm not that desperate.'

'It's not desperation Willie, it's satisfying a, how did you put it? Oh, short term need.'

She laughed at him and put a hand on his arm, talking slowly as if to a child. 'Daniel, trust me, look at me, I have plenty of options. I really don't need a pity fuck from you of all people. I can satisfy my needs elsewhere.' She shook her head, amused, and walked from him.

'What about my needs?' He shouted after her.

She stopped, spinning slowly on the spot to face him. 'Excuse me?'

He started walking slowly towards her. 'Come on, I have a beautiful woman tell me she's horny _and_ I get to play with fire? How do you think I'm feeling?'

She smirked at him, falling into the little game they were playing. 'You play with fire and you'll get burned.'

'I'll be very careful.'

She was right in front of him now, bodies only a hair apart. She lifted her head to look at him. 'You sure you know what you're getting into?'

'How could it make things any worse between us?'

'Let's find out.' She smirked and brought her lips to his, intending to be soft and she opened her eyes wide in surprise as he instantly deepened the kiss, holding tight to her waist and pushing himself against her. She could feel his hardness press against her, she rotated her hips and he groaned into the kiss, hands descending to grab her ass and hold her tighter against his already throbbing erection.

Opening one eye, she saw a cab approaching, she held a hand out to stop it and pulled away from Daniel, she smiled, seeing the effect she was having on him. She opened the car door and stepped towards it, Daniel made to follow her and she turned round, pressing a finger to his lips. 'Uh uh uh, not tonight Danny Boy.'

'B..bu...but...' He spluttered.

She laughed and looked down at his tenting pants. 'Down boy.' She whispered and climbed into the cab, shutting the door.

As it sped away, she saw Daniel's horrified expression in the mirror and grinned. As first dates go, this hadn't been half bad.


	5. Elena

E – Elena

She watched the woman crawl through the covering of metal wings to join them in the inner circle. She instantly relinquished control of the situation to the experienced woman and stood back in shock, the reality of the situation hitting her. Forget the publicity, forget getting back on the radar, she was about to become a mother...again. Where the hell was Connor when she needed him? She watched Christina gripping Betty's hand while a woman she vaguely recognised as Betty's sister gave the midwife encouragement. Who was there to support her? She felt her breath become shallow as the panic rose in her chest. Any minute now that child was going to enter the world and she alone would be responsible for him.

'Do you need to be here?' The midwife turned and took in Wilhelmina's ashen face.

'She's the mother.' Betty told her. 'Christina is her surrogate.'

Elena nodded, 'Well you might want to give the woman who is currently giving birth to your child some support then.' She said snappily.

Wilhelmina, still in shock, merely nodded at her words and knelt next to Christina, taking her free hand. The surge of pain that ripped through her bones, shook her back to reality as Christina held her breath and gave one last almighty push. The group of woman fell silent until they heard a piercing cry. Elena was smiling and tried to pass the baby to Christina, the woman shook her head, tears in her eyes and tilted her head to Wilhelmina. 'Give him to his mother.'

Willie shakily reached out her hands and took the child, the warmth of his small body emanating through her. She could hear cheers from the crowd outside, could see some kind of confetti in the air, suddenly felt the strange sensation of being lifted. All the while she stared at her son, her William, her namesake.

As she lifted him over her head, the crowd cheered and the bulbs of a hundred cameras flashed in her direction. As enamoured as she was with her newborn, something dimly registered in the back of her mind and she smiled, triumphant.

She was back.


	6. Fey

F – Fey

'Well it's certainly healing at any rate.' Fey leaned over the woman's bed, examining her face.

'It still hurts like hell.' The woman moaned through gritted teeth.

'Well you would have everything done at once.' She scolded.

'You wouldn't give me any extra time off.'

'Now, now Wanda, don't be ungrateful, remember who bank-rolled your little transformation.'

'Don't call me Wanda, it's hardly a name befitting a supermodel.'

Fey smirked. 'Well what then?' She squinted at her. 'Hmm Natasha...no too Eastern European; let me see...'

'Fey I'm not going to let you name me!'

She huffed, 'Well what did you have in mind then?'

'Wilhelmina.'

'Wilhelmina?' She rolled the name around her tongue.

The younger woman nodded and winced when the movement gave her pains. 'Yes, Wilhelmina, and I really don't care if you think it works or not.'

'I like it.' Fey spoke up, surprising her, because she never normally liked anything that came out her assistants mouth, 'Wilhelmina Slater, it has a good ring to it, a certain _je ne sais quoi.'_

Wilhelmina nodded. 'Good, as of right now Wanda is dead. I never want her mentioned again, you do then everyone finds out about your little _accident_ in Studio 54.'

'Yes yes Wan...Wilhelmina, I understand. You got me, okay. Your past no longer exists...and neither does mine.'

The two women regarded each other. 'You know, I think I'm going to like Wilhelmina.' Fey smirked. 'She's only been around ten minutes and already she has bigger balls than Wanda.'

Willie tried not to laugh, so as not to disturb her healing face. 'Trust me Fey, everyone is going to know my name.'

'I don't doubt it dear. Now heal quicker, your first shoot is in a week. I need you flawless before I present you to the designers for their fall shows.' She smiled and walked to the door, she shouted over her shoulder. 'You know, when that all heals...you are really going to be quite striking.'

Wilhelmina picked up the handheld mirror and peered in it. 'I better be more than _quite,_ the amount of goddamn pain I'm in.'

Fey walked through the door, knowing that she would indeed be more than _quite _striking, she could already see the beauty she would be. This time last week, she had been nothing more than her mousy assistant, sure she had the brains and the savvy, but she didn't have the looks. Now she had the whole package and Fey knew if she didn't watch her, the young woman in that bed would be her undoing.

She knew she had just helped create a monster.


	7. Gio

G – Gio

'I'm thinkin'...tuna melt on Rye, right?'

She looked up from her work at the cocky young man standing outside her door. No doubt he had been on this floor several times, but the cart he was pushing and the apron he wore means she probably had never spared him a second glance. 'I hope for your sake that there is a chubby Latina girl with a mouth full of metal sat on my windowsill right now.'

'Name's Gio, by the way.'

'Did I ask?'

The man laughed and pointed at her. 'You're funny...strange, that's not the first thing people tell me about you.'

'I'm a laugh riot, now push your sad little trolley over to someone that doesn't care what they put in their body...I'm sure Betty's at her desk.'

'Ah don't worry, I've already fed the eater.' He snatched a sandwich from his cart and walked inside. 'C'mon, treat yourself, I've been coming here every day for months and I've never seen you eat so much as a stick of celery.'

'There's a reason for that.' She went back to her work, hoping he would take the hint and leave; he didn't, he smiled wider and stepped forward, his floppy hair falling in his eyes as he placed the sandwich on her desk.

The smell of the melted cheese reached her nostrils and outwardly she wrinkled her nose in disgust, inwardly her stomach rumbled and begged to be fed real food for the first time in months. 'Take that away.' She ordered him.

He smiled and pushed it closer to her.

'Do you know just who you're antagonizing!'

'From the ungodly sounds coming from behind that desk I'd say a very hungry woman. You know you might find you're less hostile if you don't starve yourself.'

'I like being hostile, it gives me my edge.'

'Ok ok, fair enough. How about you see it as a reward then? Once a week, I'll stop by, if you've made ten people cry, you get one of these.'

'Ten? Please, at least make it challenging.' She smirked, finding herself liking him.

'Look, forget the challenge. Take it, it's on the house. I'm a people watcher, I like to observe. I see you in here looking miserable. Now I ain't good with words. I don't have a great deal of money. All I have is my food, and if I can make people smile with that then I'm happy.' He put a hand to his heart and put on his best wounded soldier look. 'You wouldn't deprive a poor sandwich boy of his happiness would you?'

She arched her eyebrow. 'You really don't know me do you?' She smirked. He was still staring at her and the heavenly scent coming from the sandwich was becoming too much to bare. She rolled her eyes and huffed, picked up the sandwich and tore the wrapper off. Bringing it to her mouth, she bit the corner, her eyes instantly popped out her head. 'Oh my God.'

Gio smiled and nodded. 'I told ya.'

She took a bigger bite. 'If you could make these fat free, you'd be a millionaire...don't EVER tell me how many calories this is.'

'Why? You gonna be having more?' he smiled.

She narrowed her eyes at him and continued eating, closing her eyes as her stomach celebrated having a proper meal. Gio looked at her, bewildered at what people would do for beauty and smiled at her obvious enjoyment of what he considered his art. 'I'll uh...I'll leave you two alone.' He quipped.

'Gio.' She stopped him.

He looked at her. 'You're good...really, very good with flavours. Is this something you want to make a go of?'

'Yes ma'am. I want to find my flavour.'

She nodded at him, she was more impressed by his moxy in the first 5 minutes of knowing him than she was with most people after years. 'If you're really serious...I think Rome would be the perfect place for you'

'Rome?'

She leaned over the desk. 'Have you ever heard of Scamorza?'


	8. Hilda

H – Hilda

Willie sat with her eyes closed, head lolling back, letting the steam invade her pores. She sat up, grimacing as a gust of cold air hit her. "Shut the door!" She snapped at whomever had just came in.

She heard the door click shut and felt the presence of someone beside her. Squinting through the steam, she tried to make out a face. Tried to figure out who was brave enough to come in here while she was there; yes Betty had done it once before, she had never done it again.

"You don't work here," she drawled when she could make out a face.

The slender woman clutched a towel to her and faced her, her wavy hair starting to stick to her face in the heat. "Oh me! No, my sister does, she told me to come in here and "loosen the hell up" I think were her exact words."

Wilhelmina took in the broad Queens dialect and the gaudy jewellery the woman hadn't even bothered to take off. "Betty's sister."

"Dat's me!" She laughed, "Hilda."

She eyed the hand the woman extended and leaned her head back again, ignoring it. "Hilda." She acknowledged her. "I won't introduce myself, we both know you know who I am."

Hilda raised her eyebrows. "True, my son loves you. Me, not so much."

"I'm wounded, truly." She deadpanned.

Hilda turned to face her. "We met before, do you even remember?"

Wilhelmina thought back. "Where you one of the hoochies that Marc and I ran from into that god awful church?"

"Excuse me Miss Thing, I am no hoochie."

Wilhelmina shrugged. "Well then I have no idea, and I'm too tired to try and remember."

Hilda chuckled and leaned back, mirroring Wilhelmina. "I'll say one thing for you, at least you're not fake like almost everyone else I've met in this building."

"Some parts are."

"You know what I mean, at least you say what you're thinking and don't pretend to be anything other than the bitch you are."

"Is that a compliment?"

"I think so." Hilda stood up from her position. "Ok I've had it, how can you sit in this? It's not relaxing. I'm still wound up except now I'm wound up, sweaty and with bad hair."

"What in God's name do you have to be so uptight over?"

"My wedding."

Willie chuckled. "As long as your groom doesn't have a televised heart attack at the altar I'm sure you have nothing to worry about."

"Are you trying to stress me out?"

Willie shrugged, head still back, eyes still closed. "Don't really care either way. I don't know you, why should I?"

"Because it's the decent thing."

"I thought you said you knew me?" She quipped.

Willie opened her eyes when she heard Hilda laugh. "Thank you. Thank you for being the only one I've spoken to in the last three months that doesn't want to talk wedding, wedding and more wedding."

"Glad I could help."

Hilda smiled and opened the door to leave. "Now if you'll excuse me I need to go tell Justin I just had a steam room with Wilhelmina Slater, he's gonna freak."

Wilhelmina smirked at the woman. She often found it refreshing when she met someone who didn't quake in her presence, a real person who would actually talk. She opened her mouth to tell Hilda to sit back down, but before the words came out she remembered who she was supposed to be and leaned her head back again.

"I thought I told you to close that damn door!"


	9. Ignacio

I – Ignacio

Willie watched the man on stage and smiled, she found she rather enjoyed coming here every month or so. Sipping her Martini she laughed along with the crowd as Wilheldiva Hater made a cutting remark about Manna Wintour. True to his word, her impersonator had given up time for her to come along and steal his slot if she so wished, lately though, she preferred to watch him. Marvelling at how he had her mannerisms nailed and at the words which she knew could very easily come from her own mouth...she never realised she was so funny.

It did irritate her slightly, that some people had been fooled into thinking it was her, at the time it had been welcome, convenient to get someone to cover her less desirable appointments. Looking at him now, however, she could see he had a good 100lbs on her and what looked like her original nose. Pushing the thought away she let herself enjoy the act, watched as Wilheldiva sang 'Maneater' and smirked because she knew she did it better. The show ended and she made her way backstage, as she did every time she visited, to tell him how to be more like her, and critique his wardrobe.

As she found herself at the foot of the stage she felt a hand on her arm. 'Excuse me...' She turned around and met the eyes of an older gentleman, smiling warmly at her.

'I just wanted to say, I'm a very big fan. Ignacio Suarez.' He held out his hand.

'Suarez?' She narrowed her eyes as she let the man shake her hand. 'You're not related to Betty are you?'

Ignacio smile. 'Yes, I'm her father, how do you know Betty? Oh yes of course, you met her at Mode didn't you.'

Wilhelmina screwed her eyes up. 'Where else could I possibly know her from, we hardly move in the same circles.' She said dryly.

Ignacio laughed. 'You're always in character huh?'

She shook her head. 'What are you...?' Her eyes widened and she turned to look at the stage, and then back to Ignacio, realising he thought she was her own tribute act. She saw a young boy she sort of recognised, someway behind him, gesturing at the older man and shouting 'Grampa No!' He was being held back by a slender Latina woman who was smiling at the exchange.

'You know, you're very convincing, I would have never guessed you were a man. In fact, I made quite a fool of myself the first time I saw you.' He smiled.

'I am not a man!'

'Oh no no.' He smiled, going along with her, tapping the side of his nose. 'Of course not _Miss_.'

She put her hands on her hips and invaded his personal space. 'Listen old man, I am Wilhelmina Slater and if you want to keep your own teeth for the rest of your days I'd think about shutting up!'

Ignacio shook his head in wonder. 'So good, from what Betty told me about her, it seems you've really got her nailed. And the look is just flawless, I mean these...' He put his hands out and grabbed what he believed where her 'fake' breasts. Feeling them under his hands his face started to droop. '...look...real.' He swallowed.

Wilhelmina pursed her lips, the young boy and the woman she assumed was his mother stood, mouths open, hands clutching their chests. She moved her eyes back to Betty's father, who was staring at his hands, still on her. 'Are you finished groping me now, or would you like me to turn round and you can grab my ass?'

He snatched his hands away as if burned. 'Ms Slater...I'm...I'm so very...Nice meeting you.' She bit her cheek to stop smiling and saw Ignacio scurry away past his family who were now buckling with laughter, tears streaming down their faces.

She laughed as she heard the boy call after his Grandfather. 'Oh come on Grampa, cheer up, you just got to second with Wilhelmina Slater!'


	10. Justin

J – Justin

Her assistant was bustling around the room, fixing her flowers, straightening the awards adorning her credenza. A duster tucked under his arm as he practised his speech in his head. He spun round as he heard the familiar brisk walk, echoing through the office.

'Good morning Willie are you aging backwards because I swear you look younger every day.'

'I've heard that one.' She replied, not looking at him as she dumped her coat and bag on the chaise. He swooped to retrieve it and had it neatly hanging on a hook before she had even sat behind her desk.

'Messages?'

He handed her the small pile of papers he had in his hand and rocked back on his heels. He stood in front of the desk, his body physically squirming as he tried to find the courage to ask what he needed to.

'Why are you still here?' She didn't look at him, instead flicking through the pages he had handed her.

'I have to ask you...I need a...favour.' He waited for the eyebrow to creep up, she did not do favours. Sure enough, he saw it rise up her forehead.

'A raise?'

'No.'

'More benefits?'

'No.'

'A Kidney?'

'No.'

'Dear God, just ask, I don't have all day to play your guessing games.'

'I need to finish early today.'

She leaned back, eyeing him, her arms came to rest on the side of her chair as she crossed her legs. 'I'm sorry, I don't understand your request.' She responded sarcastically.

He sat down, pulling the chair close to the desk. 'Please Willie. It's this...boy, my charge if you like. He's going through some things, he needs a friend. He's just a kid and he's got issues he can't talk to his family about. He needs someone who's been there. He needs someone like me.'

Willie bit her lip, trying not to smile and show affection for the young man in front of her. Composing herself, she pursed her lips. 'Don't make a habit of it.'

He smiled, 'Thank you Willie.' He jumped up and ran to leave the room.

'Wait!' she called; he halted. 'If you do half as good a job with him as Marc did with you...he'll be fine.'

Justin smiled broadly at the rare compliment from his boss. He had come to work for her three years after she had gained control of Mode. After two years he was slowly becoming as important to her as Marc had been.

The 21 year old nodded his head in appreciation and walked backwards from the room. Willie smiled as he retreated. She never thought she would say this...

...but it was good to have a Suarez in the office.


	11. Kimmie

K – Kimmie

She hadn't been sure at first, she had that many possession it was hard to keep track of them. She knew she should catalogue them, and she did with the most expensive ones, but anything under 5 grand she never bothered.

At first she had barely noticed, the sheer volume of things she owned, masked the few items which had sporadically disappeared. When she had first started noticing, she merely assumed she had misplaced them.

Then bigger and more expensive things had started going missing. A fur here, a necklace there, the platinum candle sticks that sat in her hallway. They only person she could think of who had unrestricted access to her home was her new assistant; he had of course been fired immediately.

Standing now, in the threshold of her bedroom, she fumed. It hadn't been her assistant, of course not, he was terrified of her, wet his pants almost every time she barked his name. It had been the new cleaner he had hired for her apartment. The new cleaner who she hadn't ever laid eyes on. The new cleaner who had trashed her apartment and stolen some of her most prize possessions.

_You haven't seen the last of me._

The new cleaner who had left a single Tico Berry in the middle of her bed.


	12. LeBeau

L –LeBeau

'Where the hell have you brought me?' She asked, incredulous as she stepped out his Chrysler.

'Come on Willie, where's your sense of adventure? Live a little.' Her southern lover drawled at her.

'I have a sense of adventure, I just like it confined to Spa's, boutiques and 5-star restaurants; not...' She swallowed the lump rising in her throat and made an exaggerated show of feigning sickness. 'Outlet Malls.' She finished.

He snickered at her. 'Look Willie, this is where I started building my clothing line, I want to show you where it all began, how it took off.' He locked the door and started walking across the parking lot.

'So give me a booklet I can pretend to read and throw in the trash, don't drag me round the place where fashion comes to die.' She whined, following him; feeling entirely overdressed in her Armani and Jimmy Choos.

He slowed down and waited on her to catch up, taking her hand as she approached. They attracted several stares as they made their way into the building. The rugged cowboy was dressed in deep blue jeans and checked shirt, blending in nicely with the locals, in stark contrast to the fashionista on his arm.

She felt her skin react as she stepped through the automatic doors into the mall, if anyone saw her here it would be devastating, although it was highly unlikely that anyone from her circle would be caught dead in Hicksville USA.

He pulled her into a large department store and she quickly grew tired of the sea of ugly she was presented with, all gawping as she passed, probably in awe at seeing natural fibres up close.

The man pulling on her hand, suddenly stopped; her attention was still on the awestruck townsfolk and she bumped into him.

Annoyed, she looked up into his smiling face as he gestured with his free hand to the display behind him. She looked over his head at the large Beaumart sign above them, with the three words underneath it that made her blood run cold. _Fashion That's Affordable._

'Very nice darling, now how about you take me somewhere and get me good and drunk.'

He leaned in smirking and gave her a light kiss on the lips, the unlikely couple attracting even more blatant stares. 'Not so fast, I wanna get you something first.'

She raised her eyebrow. 'I'm not normally one to turn down gifts, but I don't see a Cartier or Tiffany's in the vicinity.'

He released her and walked to the nearest stand, pulling out a pair of tight fitted jeans. Before he was even back at her side, she was shaking her head. He laughed, 'Come on Wil.'

'Did you know indigo denim is the most common fibre in the world, do I look like I do common?'

He smiled, leaning into her ear. 'Well I'm just a common country boy at heart, and you do me just fine.' His lilting southern accent brought an unwanted smile to her lips. He pushed the garment at her. 'Just go try 'em on, I bet you got the ass for it.' He leered.

Leaning back, she knew she shouldn't have looked into his eyes. His charismatic glint and naughty smile did things to her and she always found herself relenting. He was far from her usual type, but she couldn't deny the rough and ready look had its charm; she was falling for this ordinary man, this rags to riches story.

Cursing herself, she snatched them from his hand and marched to the changing room in the back. Grimacing in disgust at having to wait for a free changing area she recoiled when she saw a middle aged, overweight woman vacate a changing room. How had she ended up shopping in the same establishment as Joe Average?

Stepping into the changing room, she hurriedly pulled the dress she wore down over her hips and hung it on a hook, messily; eager to get this experience over with. Kicking off the Choos, she stepped into the jeans and slid them up over her hips. She slid the zip up, noticing the perfect fit over her curves, she turned her back to the mirror and craned her head;, eyes widening as she saw how they cupped and accentuated her ass.

She was too busy turning this way and that, to notice the curtain slide back until it was too late and the body was in beside her. He grinned, 'Told you.'

He held her hand and made her turn for him, a difficult task with the two of the squashed in the small space. 'You know, this is a good look for you.' He told her, taking in her body in only her black bra and the jeans which sculpted to her skin.

As she turned to face him, she smiled. 'Okay you've proved your point. You may buy me the jeans, now scoot, let me get changed.' She tried to push him out.

He held fast and pulled the curtain behind them tighter closed. His boyish grin widened as his hands slipped around her, moving to cup her ass. He lifted her and pinned her against the wall, bringing his mouth to her neck. 'Oh I don't think so.'

'Ted!' She hissed loudly, laughing.

Outside the shoppers stood in a queue for the changing rooms, but they quickly dispersed when they heard the strong Texan voice.

'Now let's see if it's easier to get you outta these than it was to get you in them.'


	13. Marc

M – Marc

There were days when she truly hated being Fey's creative director. Today was one of those days; she had a ridiculous amount of work needing done. The centre spread needed a complete overhaul. Two designers had withdrawn their permission to be showcased in the next issue because Fey disparaged them at a gala last night.

She had to go convince them to change their minds, compose a new concept for the centre spread, oversee the cover shoot, fire two girls from styles and cover for Fey while she was out somewhere under Bradford goddamn Meade. With all that to do, today was not the day she needed the fashion students traipsing around the halls, getting under her feet.

There they were, all lined up along the edge of the tube, staring around the place in awe. As she walked among them, she curled her lips in disgust; everyone of them had pulled their outfits out of the latest pages of Mode, Elle or Vogue. They kept up with the magazines, not the fashions themselves, if they were truly passionate they should be one step ahead of the magazines at all times. There was not a hint of originality on any of them, she stopped at the end of the tube, except this one.

She faced him and placed her hands on her hips, pursing her lips and breathing slowly through her nose as she looked him up and down. The ensemble before her was not ripped from the pages of one of the many publications out there. What he was wearing had clearly been put together by him and him alone. Aspects of it were truly hideous, but she could live with that, everyone still has to learn after all. Other aspects of it shouldn't work, but did. He was wearing things even she would not think to put together, this boy had something. Her eyes finally left his outfit to look at his face, which was now drained of colour with bulging eyes. She had become so used to people looking at her with the mixture of fear and adulation, she had truly started to believe that was just how people looked.

"Ms Slater, can I just say, I'm a huge fa..."

She held up a hand. "Shh!" She stopped him. "Name?"

He swallowed. "Marc Weiner."

She grimaced and she heard a few people next to him snicker, she shot them a look, silencing them. "Change it."

He nodded vigorously. "Have you been picked up for internship yet?"

"Elle." His voice was raspy.

"Your first choice?"

He shook his head. "No, no, Mode was first. Ms Sommers had already singled out Cadence though."

Wilhelmina looked down the line of student to the girl he pointed out; the girl Wilhelmina knew would crack after a week under the rule of her and Fey.

Wilhelmina tilted her head to the side and pouted. "Pity." She mused; she bit her lip and stepped in closer to him. "Finish your internship, change that ridiculous name; and we'll talk."

The smile which lit up his face almost made her crack one herself, but she swallowed the urge. A man walked up behind her and handed her a stack of papers. "I've got the designers Fey pissed off back on board Ms Slater."

She breathed a sigh of relief, one less thing for her. "Thank God, you really are a Saint James."

Marc tilted his head as he heard her speak. She turned back to the students, still watching her every move. "Go!" She barked at them.

They scurried away; Cadence turned to Marc. "Hurry up Weiner!" She mocked.

He brushed past her, smug in the knowledge that he had caught the eye of the best in the fashion world.

"The name's St James."


	14. Nico

N – Nico

She told herself she hadn't wanted this, that when she had banished her daughter from her apartment, it had been for good. It was Connor who had talked her into it, made her see that if he could be forgiven for what he did to her and she could be forgiven for her alarmingly large list of misdemeanours against the Meade's, that her own child had the right to another chance.

Standing in her kitchen, she felt Connor's arm around her, supporting her, as she and Nico locked stares over her counter. She had arrived from the airport over ten minutes ago and the two women had not exchanged words since, preferring instead to stare each other down. Connor switched his gaze between the two women and rolled his eyes: he should have known Nico would be a carbon copy of her mother when it came to her temperament. Neither was going to make the first move, it was up to him.

'Nico...I'm pleased to meet you. I'm Connor, I've heard a lot about you.'

Nico eyed the man up and down and pursed her lips in a gesture she had obviously learned from her mother. 'So you're the latest fly my mother caught in her tangled web. I hope your content to stand on the sidelines holding her purse while she bathes in the limelight.'

'He's your step-father.' Willie spoke for the first time since her daughter came home.

Nico laughed. 'Step-father? You finally managed to get a ring on one?' She turned to Connor and mock whispered, 'She usually has them running for the hills before they get that far.'

Connor felt his wife stiffen in his hold. 'Well I'm sticking around.' Connor told his step-daughter.

'So mother, you get married and don't invite me? Not that I would have come but I'm upset you denied me the delight of R.S. no.' Her daughter smiled wickedly.

'I would have invited you Nico, if I didn't think I'd be carted off to jail for bludgeoning your plus one to death. How is dear "Detective Castellar"?'

She saw her daughter swallow and smiled, victorious. 'He left you didn't he? Ripped you off for all he could and left?'

Nico looked down, unable to respond to her mother's cruelty. Wilhelmina looked at her and felt something in her heart melt, she saw the child she had been, not the woman she was. Slowly removing Connor's arm from her, she tentatively made her way to her daughter. She lifted her hand to her daughter's face and forced her to look at her, really look at her. She saw the sadness in her eyes and she hurt for her, she was still her daughter after all. She was still the tiny baby she had once held in her arms. She stroked her face with her thumb and Nico began to show the first sign of cracking, her expression softening for only a moment, before quickly composing herself, the steely glint returning to her eye as she turned her head away from her mother's touch.

Wilhelmina set her mouth in a thin line and nodded slowly. 'I'll get your room ready, let you and Connor get acquainted.' She left her family alone.

Nico looked at Connor who smiled at her, she rolled her eyes and walked to the fridge. Opening it, she stepped back in fright when it was suddenly slammed shut, she turned to find Connor leaning into her menacingly, his arm trapping her against the fridge.

'Your mother is a very formidable woman Nico. She doesn't take shit from anyone.' He was still smiling at her. 'Unfortunately she is genetically programmed to have a soft spot when it comes to forgiving her own child.'

He leaned closer and she tried to back herself into the appliance behind her. 'I, however, have no such weakness. You will treat your mother with the respect she deserves. I see even one hint of you trying to, or even thinking about, hurting her the way you did in the past and I will have no problem wiping you from her life, like an insect from a windscreen.'

Nico felt a sudden surge of contempt rise within her. 'You can't ta...'

He held a finger in her face, all the while still smiling. 'Oh but I can. Make no mistake Nico, I do not want to be a bad guy, but I love that woman through there and I will remove anyone..._anyone _from her path that makes her unhappy; I owe her that much. Now I can be dear sweet step-father Connor...or I can be your newest, biggest adversary and trust me little girl, I've squashed bigger bugs than you. Do we understand each other?'

She swallowed, regarding the man in front of her, she knew from his eyes that he was genuine; that he would do anything for her mother. She nodded.

Connor sprang back as he heard the click of heels on marble, smiling as his wife came back in the room.

'How are you two getting along?' She asked them.

Connor put an arm around his new step-daughter's shoulder. 'Swimmingly.'


	15. Owens

O – Owens

Her desk was empty in front of her. Empty, but for one thing, her eyes transfixed on the small placard which had sat on that desk for longer than she cared to count. Picking it up, she traced her fingers along the contours of the cool metal, the indentations spelling out the letters adorning it.

_Wilhelmina Slater_

She had fought so hard and long to keep that mantle in this office. Had put more schemes in place that she could count, and if she was honest, some she didn't care to remember. While it had always been fun to torture the Meades, she couldn't deny that some of the plans she had executed over the years had been more than what one might call... underhand.

In the end, none of it had mattered, Daniel had simply walked into her office on a non-descript day; no scenes, no drama and had simply handed the reigns over to her. Not because of the tactics she had employed to remove every last obstacle from her path, but because he knew she had earned it. Unbelievably it had been her talent, not conniving, that landed her the position she had coveted so long.

Wilhelmina Slater was Editor In Chief, scratch that, _sole _Editor In Chief. Not Creative Director, not CO Editor, it was hers, all hers. The placard she had carried with her since the day she first sat down as Fey's creative director now belonged on the desk of Mode's only leader; which is why she couldn't grasp the fact that she was packing it away.

She couldn't quite believe that Wilhelmina Slater would no longer sit in this office. That after she had gotten all she wanted, all she fought for, this one symbol was being packed away forever. No more would interns or Editors leave papers on her desk, fear struck in them by the mere sight of the name, even when the desk sat vacant. But as much as she wanted it too, it couldn't stay; not after what happened with Connor, not now he was finally back in her life. She knew now that he was more important than any title she could ever hold.

She was still lost in thought, turned the embellished name plate in her hand, when the other man in her life quietly entered her office. Noting her distraction, the look on her face as she regarded the object she held, he smiled. 'It's the end of an era.' He spoke softly.

'That it is.' Her voice was monotonous, eyes never wavering.

Marc shook his head slowly. 'I still can't believe it.'

'Well believe it.'

They remained silent, him looking at her as she continued to stare at her own name. Suddenly breaking her trance, she leaned forward and cleared her throat. 'Did you get it?'

Marc smiled and nodded, quickly stepping forward and handed her the package he held behind his back. She ripped it open and smirked, picking up the previous discarded name plate she handed it to her young friend. 'Do something with this.'

Marc grabbed it and held it close and grinned as he watched his mentor smile; placing the long strip of cool metal at the fore front of her desk.

_Wilhelmina Owens _


	16. Penelope

P – Penelope Greybridge

As she watched the woman announce her promotion on the television, she felt her last chance slip away. She had given up everything to find Connor and ultimately help Nico and now she had lost it all; her daughter, the love of her life and now her career was turning to ashes before her eyes.

Beneath the desperation she felt sheer incredulity at the notion Penelope had been given the position instead of her. She knew damn fine she was better at her job than the bouffant haired wannabe diva. Carlos Medina had pretty much confirmed that she had the position, the voices on the grapevine had whispered her name on more than one occasion.

The reason it galled her so much was that they had started in the business at the same time, in the same manner. Penelope had found herself working as an assistant, at that time the two of them could be considered friends; as they both embarked on a modelling career their friendship had quickly declined to rivalry, a rivalry which only became more bitter as they went back to the publishing world as Creative Directors.

At almost every turn, Wilhelmina had always been one step ahead of the others; Penelope, Joe even Grace Coddington from Vogue. She always had the last laugh with them all, now her mind's eye was burning with the image of Penelope laughing at her expense as she landed the position she coveted.

She walked out the tent into the scorching sunshine, but it felt cold on her skin. She looked over at Betty, sticking out like a sore thumb as ever, digging through the as yet untouched catering table and lifting a cheeseburger. Wilhelmina marched over to her and snatched it, in a foul mood now. 'Give me that! You're at a swimwear shoot for God's sake!' She hissed, marching away with the offending greasy object in her hand.

As soon as she was out of sight she ripped a bite out the burger; carbs be damned, she might as well get fat now she had nothing else left. Strolling onto the deserted beach she lowered herself onto the sand and took another bite.

Staring into the sea, lost in her anguish; she focussed on a shape moving under the water.


	17. Quincy

Q – Quincy Combs

She arrived home, exhausted, in a foul mood and wanting nothing more than a cold glass of something alcoholic and demanding a back rub from Connor. When she walked into the hall she saw the light blinking furiously on her answering machine. Pressing play, her eyes widened when she heard the automated voice tell her she had 74 messages.

Listening to them, she skipped through most as they seemed to be nonsensical ramblings interspersed with laughter. She recognised a few of the voices however.

Penelope Greybridge; "Dear me Wilhelmina, how ever did you find room in your closet for all those skeletons?"

Robbie Myers; "And you have the audacity to slate my nose job to the press."

Daniel Meade; "Thank you Wilhelmina, thank you for the most entertainment I've had in months."

Amanda Tanen; "Oh-em-gee, Wilhelmina, I knew you had secrets but wow! We totally need to dish over cocktails."

Betty Suarez; "I wish I could sympathise, but you must have seen something like this coming."

Alexis Meade; "Guess I'm not the only one with embarrassing pre-op photos huh?"

Marc St James; "Oh Willie, oh God, what are you gonna do? CALL ME!"

Claire Meade; there was no coherent message, but she'd know that insane witch's cackle anywhere.

She stabbed her finger on the pause button and put one hand on her hip. She had no idea what they were all about, but she knew it wouldn't be good. Furrowing her brow, at least _attempting_ to furrow her brow, she walked into her kitchen. Connor was standing facing her, his back against the worktop, an unreadable expression on his face.

"Darling, don't freak out." He said in a calm voice.

"Connor, what the hell is going on?" Her voice was wavering, knowing she was about to be hit with a bombshell.

He reached for her hand and pulled her in to him. "This came this morning."

He stepped aside and her eyes almost fell out her head when she saw what he had been shielding. Her eyes fell on the yellow post it stuck on the front. _Thank you Willie, for making me a very rich man. QC x_

She ripped off the note and scrunched it up, eyes narrowing as she focussed on the book underneath it. "I'll kill him." She growled.

_The Wicked Witch of the Wardrobe: Creating the Diva, by Quincy Combs._


	18. Renee

R – Renee

She hated coming to see her, hated receiving the woman's gratitude for getting her the help she needed. She was rarely one to feel guilt for her actions, but this was her sister after all. She had her incarcerated without a seconds hesitation, and had endangered the lives of others in the process.

Every time she sat in the beautifully decorated rehabilitation room with her sister, she felt the guilt eat her from the inside. She accepted the feeling readily, took it as penance for the atrocity she had committed, true it was nothing compared to what most people would say she deserved, but she wasn't most people.

She looked around the room, at the other damaged people situated inside it. The room itself would not be out of place in a country club or an upscale hotel. You could try and paint it any way you saw fit, it still didn't disguise the fact she was in the crazy house.

Her stare went to the door when she heard it open and she plastered on a fake smile when her sister walked through. She hated seeing the defeatist slump of her shoulders, the shuffling of her feet. She was acting like a stereotypical mental patient, and Wilhelmina knew she was anything but. She wanted to shake her, tell her to snap out of it and that she was well, but she would never blow her cover, never put herself on the line; not even for family.

Renee sat down in front of her and smiled. "You know you're the only one that comes to see me anymore."

"What about Mom and Dad?"

Renee chuckled. "You think Dad wants to acknowledge a daughter who's in a loony bin...again? Think of the damage it would do to his name. And Mom, well you know she's never been big on the support front."

Willie smirked, conceding the point. Renee's hand shot across the table. "It really means a lot to me you know? Especially after what I nearly did to you; threatening you, blackmailing you, that's not what sisters do. This," she squeezed her hand, "is what sisters do, they're there for each other."

Wilhelmina retracted her hand from under Renee's and clasped in with her other in her lap. "I need to tell you something."

"Oh?"

"Daniel." Willie said simply.

Renee smiled and her eyes seemed to lighten. "Did you talk to him about coming to see me? Did you tell him how well I'm doing?

The hope in her sister's voice made her squeeze her eyes closed and just blurt it out, ripping of the metaphorical band aid. "He's getting married."

When she opened her eyes, her sister was staring at her, face still frozen in a smile. "He's what?"

"You heard me."

"But he..."

"Renee, let it go. Let go of Daniel and focus on getting better."

Renee stood up suddenly. "You're right. Thank you Willie." Willie was unnerved by the swift change in demeanour.

"I think I'll go back to my room now." She turned and left, Wilhelmina watched her go, without so much as a goodbye.

A month later, Wilhelmina got the call to say her sister had been sent to a more secure unit. She had swiped a lighter from the Wardens office and torched her room. In the centre of the blaze they had found several copies of the same thing; the Wedding Issue of Mode.

The new Mrs Meade; her face charred in every one.


	19. Senator

S – Senator

Connor squeezed her hand tightly as she tried to gather her thoughts, afraid of going in that room.

'Do you want me to come in with you?' He asked her, his free hand rubbing her back.

She shook her head and he kissed the top of it as she released his hand and pushed the door open. The suffocating silence of the room was broken only by the shrill, steady beep from the monitor. She took slow yet determined steps into the room; the occupant in the bed, behind the curtain, was coming more and more into view with every step.

She felt her mouth go dry as she pulled the curtain to one side and stepped inside the shroud it created around the bed. She pulled up a chair and sat down, her eyes fixed on the figure resting on the bed.

'Hi Daddy.' She spoke softly, sounding like the child she had been.

The man didn't respond, his eyes remained closed, the rising and falling of his chest was the only indication there was breath left in his body. Seeing him there, so helpless, shook her to her very core. When she thought of her father, the image she conjured was not the old, frail body which lay before her; it was a strong, courageous yet ultimately, emotionally unavailable man.

Throughout the course of her life, whatever small father-daughter relationship they shared had diminished. She had called on him only when she required something which was out with her control, which was rare. Yet without him, she wouldn't be with the man waiting for her outside.

'Thank you.' She whispered to him.

When she had received the call, she had been shocked at the overwhelming grief she felt when she learned of her father's condition. She genuinely believed that over the years he had chipped away at her so much that her love for him would be dead. The strength of feeling she now felt as she sat holding his hand gave her hope for her and her own child.

She dipped her head, unable to look at his face, at the mask helping him breathe and at the shell her father had become. She gripped the hand tighter, she willed the tears to fall, wanted to weep for her father the way a dutiful daughter should, but they wouldn't come.

'I wish I knew if you could hear me.' She whispered, 'If you even knew I was here. Why did it have to come to this dad? Why did you stand apart from me and Renee our whole lives? Why couldn't you see that what you thought was you pushing us to be strong was actually you pushing us away?'

She was suddenly angry at the man in front of her, who claimed to have raised her when in fact he had never truly been present. She was angry that she would now never get the answers she so badly needed. 'Why was I never good enough? Everything I did, I did for your approval, for you to once tell me I was achieving what you wanted of me. You never did though, nothing was enough. You once said you didn't approve of a business that made me who I am. It wasn't the business dad, it was you.'

She noted the grip on his hand was getting painfully tight and released some pressure, taking a deep breath, calming herself. 'I'm sorry, you're on your death bed and we're still fighting.' She chuckled to no one.

'I did it though, I finally got everything I wanted. Mode is mine and I have someone in my life I love more than I thought I was capable of. I just wish you could have seen it all. I...' She wanted to tell her father she loved him, but the words clung to the walls of her throat like honey. Instead she stood and released his hand.

'I know there's probably no chance we would have ever worked through our issues, we're both too stubborn for that.' She ran the back of her hand down the side of his face. 'But I am proud to have had you as a father...I just wish I knew if I ever made you proud too.'

She bent to kiss her father's forehead, she knew this was the last time she would see him but still the tears wouldn't fall. She turned and forlornly left the side of his bed, desperate for the answer she needed. She was at the door, hand poised on the knob when an almighty sob ripped from her chest as she heard one raspy word from the bed behind her.

'Everyday.'


	20. Tyler

T – Tyler

How could she not have seen it the minute she had clapped eyes on him? How could she not see the weak chin, elliptical head and kicked puppy eyes that screamed out the fact he was a Meade? Maybe not in name, but it was obvious none of the boys had inherited their father's genes.

She had always thought Alex had an air of a younger Bradford around him, but Daniel was undeniably Claire. Studying Tyler know as he stood in front of her, she admitted there wasn't a striking resemblance, but she had an eye for detail and she could pin point the traits which made him more Meade than Hartley.

She stared deep in those eyes that held hers and could have been looking at Daniel; she tilted her head, or Matt actually. Maybe he was a perfect mix of both parents, maybe Tyler was the missing stage between his two half brothers.

'What do you want?'

He swallowed and stepped further into the room. 'I wanted to say I'm sorry.'

'No you're not.' She smirked. 'Claire must be so proud of you, you did what she's wanted to do for years. Although I think she would have aimed for the heart.'

He leaned on the edge of the bed. 'I am sorry.'

'Look.' She snapped, 'Tyler, if I hadn't done what I did you would never have had the opportunity.'

'That doesn't excuse shooting someone.' He said, quietly so no-one would hear his admission.

She pursed her lips and nodded, 'True, and had I not been given the most wonderful surprise this morning you can bet your ass I'd be conjuring up ways to make you pay.'

'There must be something I can do.'

She sighed. 'Look, you forgive me, I forgive you; deal?'

He shrugged. 'Doesn't seem like a fair trade. I know what you did was...I can't find the words to say how wrong it was. But you didn't put a bullet in someone. I coulda killed you.'

'There is one thing you can do for me though.' He looked at her, quizzical; 'Get sober again.'

He stood from the bed and nodded. 'I can do that.'

'I'd suggest finding a new sponsor though.' She laughed and he joined her.

He sobered again, 'You're definitely ok though right?'

She reached to the bedside table and lifted a small plastic casing. 'I'm fine, got it all.' She smirked.

'Oh God, is that what I think it is?'

She tilted the casing from side to side, the small metal slug rolling against the edge of the container. 'I'm thinking of making it into a necklace for your mother, I think she'll appreciate it more than anyone.' She joked. 'You could of at least fired twice, I would have made earrings.'

He shook his head. 'How can you joke about this?'

She smiled as the memory of awakening that morning invaded her mind.

'Let's just say I had a wake-up call.'


	21. Ugly Betty

U – Ugly Betty

_A/N – Yes, yes, ok I know it's a stretch...you try coming up with a character for U! Plus I had already used B for Bradford; if you think this is pushing it, wait 'til you see X! _

She hated to say it, but she admired that stocky little girl, look at the miracles she had managed to work with Daniel Meade. She had shown considerable strength of character throughout the years she had worked at Mode, had never been swayed by the dark side, no matter how tempting. She had proven her loyalty and integrity a thousand times over and she had managed to keep close ties with her family while still advancing in her career, something Wilhelmina herself had been unable to achieve.

Granted, she would never be splashed across page 6, would never be as notorious as Wilhelmina Slater, but that didn't matter to her, she was happy enough taking pride in her work and being recognised by her peers. Wilhelmina had been sorry to see her go, although she would never admit it to anyone but Marc.

When she had visited Mode UK, she was surprised by the sudden urge that crept up on her to check up on the fashion disaster that was Betty Suarez, she had been even more surprised at the girl's eager acceptance of her lunch offer.

As she sat across from her now, she smiled inwardly at how comfortable Betty was in her current surroundings, compared with the unease she had displayed when they had last been placed in this scenario, when she had tried to poach her from Daniel.

"Do you miss it?"

Betty nodded, "Sometimes, and then sometimes it's like I forget I was there at all, it feels like someone else was that awkward person struggling to fit in."

Wilhelmina smirked "Well, it's clear you've carved out your niche here. If it's any consolation you left a very big space to fill back at Mode." Betty smiled at the compliment. "I mean literally, the ass print you left on your chair was huge."

Betty choked around the mouthful of latte she had just taken. "Master of the backhanded compliment as always Wilhelmina."

The two women looked at each other, both strong characters in differing ways, both with a grudging respect for the other. "Why did you want to see me anyway?"

Wilhelmina shrugged. "Daniel's gone, Amanda's gone, you're gone, Marc's always out of the office. I guess I just wanted a reminder of how it used to be. Why did you agree to see me?"

"Same reason I guess. I heard about you and Connor." She said, indicating the shining diamond band on Wilhelmina's finger. "Congratulations, I guess."

Wilhelmina smirked. "Funny how few people seem genuinely pleased for us. And what about you, Claire tells me Daniel followed you out here?"

Betty screwed up her face. "Yeah, can we not talk about that? Daniel is and always will be, like a brother to me."

"Well any fool can see that, Claire's just been diluted in alcohol for so long it's addled her mind."

Betty dipped her head, hiding a laugh, she didn't like laughing at other people's misfortune, but she had missed the ongoing rivalry between those two. The cheque arrived and Wilhelmina's brows shot up when Betty snatched it up before she could. "I'll get this, it's nice to be able to afford some of the finer things now. You know, you guys never really paid very well."

Willie smiled. "Well this has been...an experience." She stood from the table. "Something tells me our paths will cross again, Betty Suarez. You should be proud of yourself." With a curt nod she moved for the exit.

"Wilhelmina."

She turned to look at Betty who was leaning back in her chair, looking at her with a strange expression, almost smug. "You know you were wrong."

"Excuse me?"

"You once told me you couldn't have it all. That I should pick one; career or love. Look at you now, Editor-In –Chief and quite a huge rock on your finger. You were wrong, you've got it all. I think this might be the first time since I've known you that I can see you as someone to aspire to."

Wilhelmina stared at her, letting the words sink in. She did have it all, she had never been happier and, if she was honest with herself, the fact that Betty had just likened her to a role model was more than a little touching. Not that she would show it, she hadn't changed that much. She lifted her mouth in a smirk and twitched a brow towards her.

"Took you long enough."

Betty smiled as Wilhelmina spun around and left the restaurant, she saw her slip into a black limo.

Inside the limo, she smiled at the man sat next to her as he leaned over to kiss her. "How was your lunch?"

"Fine." Still smiling widely at her husband, the man who helped her have it all.

"Who were you meeting?" Connor asked her, leaning closer, unable to take his eyes from her.

"An old friend." She looked through the window at where Betty still sat, only the back of her head visible. "A very smart, old friend."


	22. Victoria

V –Victoria Hartley

'Oh my God, play it back.' Wilhelmina said, between uncharacteristic bursts of laughter. She was sitting on the floor in the lavish room, wine glass in hand and could feel the tears of laughter building behind her eyes.

The whole scenario was more fitting to a couple of fourteen year old girls than two women of their age and status, but the visual before her was too delicious not to get caught up in it.

'Wilhelmina, this is the NINTH time!' The older woman laughed as she dutifully backed up the DVD to the start of the section she knew she wanted to see.

'I know, I don't care, oh God...I'm going to put this on continuous loop in my office.' She wiped the wetness from her eye and put her hand on her ribcage, feeling it ache from laughter. The first time she had properly laughed in years.

Victoria Hartley sat down next to her and pressed play, after a few second passed she grinned as the woman beside her once again dissolved into incontrollable laughter. 'Dear God Willie, think of the laugh lines.'

'Screw them, it's worth it.' She went to take another sip from her wine but waited until the hilarity on screen had passed, knowing she would choke on the liquid if she tried to drink it before the scene ended.

Earlier that night, amidst the blatant fishing for information about Claire Meade, she had found herself bonding with the woman next to her. Bizarre in that; one, she rarely made friends and two, when she did, she generally didn't find herself warming to them so quickly.

They had bonded together easily over their shared hatred of Claire Meade and during the course of the evening Victoria had spoken of her ex-husband, Cal, with nothing but contempt; how he cared more for money than anything else. A topic Wilhelmina could more than get on board with, given the state of relations with her own ex. To top it all, Victoria thought Betty Suarez was nothing more than an assault on the eyes; Wilhelmina agreed whole-heartedly.

Both woman had felt undermined in their lives, be it through relationships or career and Wilhelmina found herself lamenting why she hadn't found herself a bitching partner long before this; yes she had Marc, but he was more of a sounding off post. When the subject of conversation moved on to the Meade family, Daniel in particular; and all Willie felt they had done to undermine her. Victoria's face had broken into a smile and she told her _"I think I have something you'd like to see."_

Now she found herself kneeling on the floor of Victoria's media room inside the lavish townhouse, still clad in the tennis outfit she had worn that day. Victoria moved forward and ejected the DVD and handed it to her. 'A gift.'

Wilhelmina clutched it to her and suppressed another laugh. 'The best I have ever gotten.' She joked. She put a hand on the floor and pushed herself up.

'I should be going.' She drained the last of her glass.

Victoria took the glass from her. 'If you ever need to vent about that bag of bones again, you know exactly where I am. I never tire of it.'

Willie smirked. 'A girl after my own heart.' She started walking to the door, Victoria escorting her. She felt strangely lighter after her evening.

She stopped in the hallway. 'How did you get this anyway?'

'I have a deal with one of the security guards my ex-husband employs, I make a point of always knowing what Cal is up to.' She smiled.

Willie shook her head slowly, biting her lip. 'God, it's like meeting me.' She laughed. The housekeeper opened the door for her and after air-kissing her host goodbye, she descended the steps to the waiting town car.

As she climbed in, she was suitably impressed by the transport Victoria had at her disposal, and the well stocked bar that came with it. She helped herself to a bottle of champagne in the small cooler beside her. A car such as this must come with all the mod-cons? She spoke loud enough for the driver to hear. 'Does this car have a DVD player?'

'Yes Ma'am.' She saw him press a button and a small screen unfolded from the roof of the car. She slipped the disc in the back of it and poured herself a glass of the bubbling alcohol. Smiling, she sat back to watch.

Her laughter could be heard echoing outside the car as, for the tenth time, she watched a pink, fluffy Daniel Meade, face a picture of sheer embarrassment, hop for the entertainment of children and adults alike and nosedive into the cake.

She bet her surgically enhanced ass no-one found it as entertaining as her.


	23. Wanda

W – Wanda

Sometimes, only sometimes, she wishes she was still her. Only in the fleeting moments where she was consumed by desperation, when she felt everything she had worked for slip through her fingers; when all she wanted to do was crawl in her bed and lock the world away. Wilhelmina couldn't do that, but Wanda could.

Wanda didn't have to worry about when the last time she appeared on page 6 was. She didn't need to worry about slipping down the media's list of priorities. If Wanda was in a slump and wanted to leave the house in nothing more than sweats, hoodies and crocs, no-one would bat an eye; Wilhelmina does it and it's newsworthy.

No one would so much as give Wanda a second look in the street, Wilhelmina attracted attention everywhere she went. When she was Wanda if she was dating a man she knew it was because he really wanted to be with her and not just with her out of intimidation or some attempt at riding her coattails to the top.

True, Wanda had still been a bitch, had still had enemies; after all it wasn't as if she had developed an entirely different personality, merely a persona. It was how she was perceived that was different. When you compared her to Wilhelmina, however, there are few people who would ever believe it was the same person.

To say Wilhelmina created an impression was an understatement. Her reputation preceded her and people had made up their minds about her by the time she finally met them face-to-face, which was fine with her, she was growing tired of putting up the fear factor, was happy to let her name alone do the work. However, sometimes she wished she could go into a situation where no-one in the room knew who she was, where they could meet her and make up their own mind.

Yes, some days she wished she was still her. She turned on her side to face the smiling man, a sleepy expression on his face as he woke. She kissed Connor lightly and slipped from the bed.

Today was not one of those days.


	24. Xtina lol

X – Xtina (You try coming up with a character for X! :P)

She sat in her office and tried calling Marc, the phone in his office rang out and his cell went straight to voicemail. Annoyed, because she needed his help for the front spread, she went in search of him.

She found him easily, standing in the conference room, several papers spread out before him, preparing for a meeting.

'What are you doing?' She questioned him, making him jump.

'Oh...I'm...um...uh. I'm meeting with a designer, for our European issue.'

Her hands went on her hips. 'I haven't scheduled any meetings. I told you Marc, I am to be privy to all designer meetings, I don't want you filling up this issue with a bunch of French talentless Queens just because they say you're eyes look pretty.'

He swallowed. 'I just didn't think you'd want to be at this one.'

'Why ever not?'

His eyes went over her shoulder, to the opening behind her. Her eyes widened as the familiar Scottish Brogue met her ears. 'Hello Wilhelmina.'

She turned slowly and locked stares with Christina McKinney. She looked back to Marc, 'It's all yours.' She brushed past Christina and left without comment.

Later, she was still behind her desk, lost in thoughts of the debacle that had been her supposed child and surrogate when she heard a light rap on the door. She knew the woman wouldn't leave the building without coming to say her piece, she would let her. It was the one time in her life she knew she truly deserved it.

Christina stepped in the room, closing the door and sat opposite Wilhelmina. 'How are you?'

Wilhelmina didn't reply at first, shocked by the calmness of the woman before her. 'Good, you?'

'Good.' Christina nodded, the atmosphere in the room was thick with tension.

'And how is Will-'

'Callum.' Christina cut her off.

Wilhelmina nodded. 'Callum.'

'He's great, turns two next month.'

'I know.' She didn't like this, didn't like the eerie stillness that surrounded the woman who by rights should want her head on a platter and she most definitely did not like drudging up old memories of the young boy she had lost.

'Did you ever...nevermind.' Christina started, and then quickly stopped herself.

'What?' She pressed her.

'What you did, the lie you told. Was it just for the company? Did you ever care about my little boy at all?'

Wilhelmina let the question roll around in her head. No one knew of the tears she had shed once the boy had been taken, no one knew the crib remained in her room for months after he was gone. No one knew because she damn well didn't want them to know she had felt like a mother to the child. 'It was all for Meade.' She stated simply, not caring if she flew into a rage and attacked her.

Christina got up and leaned over the table and whispered to her. 'You know, you're getting really bad at lying.'

She pushed herself off the desk and left the office. Wilhelmina released a breath she wasn't aware she was holding. Christina had never been anything but a pawn to her. She had never felt her to be a threat, but as a mother herself she knew that no matter how meek the woman inside, mess with their cub and they transform into a lioness.

She walked to her credenza and took out the small silver box. Opening it, she lifted the letter Connor had written her, the letter she still pulled out and taunted him with when she was pissed at him. Underneath the letter she wrapped her fingers around a folded photo. Opening it, she frowned, looking at the serene expression on her face as she held what she had believed was her son. The pain she felt at losing him after only a couple of months was unbearable, and she had been willing to put Christina through that for a lifetime.

Folding the photo again, not wanting to be reminded anymore, she placed the objects back in the box and closed the door. She made her way to Marc's office to find out what deal had been finalised with Christina. She stopped in her tracks when she saw Christina in the hallway, talking to Claire.

She was resting a small boy on her hip.

'William.'


	25. Yoga

Y – Yoga

Connor was awaiting her return; he was sunning himself on the deck of their rented villa while she had been directing a shoot. It was supposed to be a vacation, yet she had managed to pack in at least two days work on location while they were in Italy.

He heard movement coming from inside and he stretched his tired muscles, pulling himself up from the lounger. He stepped in through the glass doors and shivered as the air conditioning blasted on his bare torso. Walking quietly, barefoot on the tiles, he made his way to the kitchen. She was standing, staring into the freezer, with her back to him.

He snuck up behind her, twisting an arm around her waist, making her jump, and placed a kiss to the crook of her neck. 'What are you doing looking in there, don't tell me you're contemplating cooking a meal.' His breathe was hot in her ear.

She huffed. 'Hardly!' She snapped and spun in his embrace, only then did he notice she was clutching an ice pack to her eye.

He stepped back, mouth open, and lifted the pack from her face. He gasped at the vivid purple swelling around the socket of her eye and across her cheekbone. 'What the hell happened?'

'Some crazy bitch jumped me!' She exclaimed. 'The shoot was packing up and I was walking back to the car and BAM! This psycho appeared from nowhere and blindsided me!'

'Why?' He asked, bending slightly to survey the damage.

'How the hell should I know! Enough with the questions, sympathy please!' She pouted.

He laughed at her. 'Aw, c'mere.' He pulled her in tight with one arm and she rested the non damaged side of her face against his chest, he placed a kiss on top of her head. 'So there was no reason? She didn't say anything at all?'

Wilhelmina leaned back. 'Actually she did, but it made no sense.'

'What?'

'She said: _This is for fish.'_


	26. Zee

Z – Zee (Joe)

'You know I practically ran the goddamn magazine for her. She was too busy screwing Bradford to even attempt to put together a worthy issue.'

'Oh tell me about it sweetheart. Roberta is far too busy having toxins injected, skin stretched and "Afternoon Delights" to do more than sign off on all the hard work I do...she still has time to take the credit, of course.'

She laughed. 'I hear you.'

It was a ritual between the two that no one knew of, and pray God, no-one would ever know of. The two supposed rivals would meet at the run down bar near the end of every month to dish on their respective bosses, using each other's tales of woe to help them realise that maybe their situation wasn't so bad.

They had chosen a place which was a flea trap on purpose; appearances were everything in this business, the unlikely friends could not been seen together. Robbie Myers and Fey Sommers would have a fit if they knew their second in commands were currently trading inside stories about them. Each trying to out-do each other in their bid to make their employers the bigger bitch.

Tonight was different, tonight they sat all in black, twirling their drinks with the little olive stuck to their cocktail sticks. 'Well maybe now you'll get the recognition you deserve.'

She huffed. 'Don't count on it. Bradford tactfully used his lover's funeral to announce her successor. The woman who has poured every aspect of her life into this magazine? No. His pissy pre-pubescent son who thinks Haute-couture is a French Appetiser? Of course.'

Joe dropped the olive in his drink, making the liquid inside spill over the edge. 'You're kidding!'

'I don't kid Joe, it suggests laughter which causes lines.'

'You're far too calm sweetie, are you in shock? You need me to slap you?' He asked hopefully.

'No dear. If I do, I promise, you're the first to know.'

'I better be, after that stinger you gave me at the Black and White ball.'

'Publicity darling, it's all publicity. Next time, you can hit me in public.'

He laughed. 'I'll pencil it in my diary. Are you sure you're okay? I would expect something like this to make you go nuclear.'

'Joe, the boy is nothing but a fly in my ointment, Pretty soon I'll trap him and squash him like the little bug he is. Trust me darling I give him a week.'

'A week?'

She smirked, sure of herself. 'Two tops.'


End file.
